Purity
by Emis
Summary: Dib hands are stained with mistakes he can never forgive himself for. He finds relief in his only friend, darkness. Character death, ZADR, oneshot


Homigawds! Emis lives! Yeah, I do. Don't yell at me because I haven't updated my other fics. I'll get to them…eventually. School started, yet I got my muse back. I had writers block for two years soo there's why I hadn't updated. Maybe I'll get to it now. Onto this fic.

A/N uhm I wrote this because I wanted to try out a new style of writing and I thought this to be the easiest way. So yeah don't bitch about the storyline, just tell me what's wrong with the style of writing. Be harsh.

Summary : Dib does something he'll forever regret, yet another he never will. ZADR. oneshot

Warnings : xeno, blood, death

Disclaimer : Poor Jhonen why must we use his characters for our own twisted entertainment? Because it's cool. :3. Soo there you have it Zim and Dib are his, not mine.

A cold dark room, a single metal table sat in the middle, a light shined brightly and contently down upon it, and only it. Next to it a metal cart, a metal tray perched atop, with metal shiny objects all with sharp metal points. They gleamed and shined, innocently. A single white sheet sprawled across the table unceremoniously, once having been put on carefully and perfect. Its pure clean surface marred by small pink stains sprayed on it like soft drops of rain; a pool of the pink liquid dripped slightly off the edge of the table to land with a plop on the floor. A trail lead up to the soft form of something, something underneath the surface of the, also, innocent looking white sheet. A soft lump lay upon the single metal table with the white sheet next to the tray of shiny metal objects in the cold dark room with the brightly shining light.

On the metal cart, in the metal tray the farthest shining metal object gleamed a sadistic gleam; from tip to bottom it lay covered in dark pink liquid, it was not arranged neatly and perfectly as the others, it was dropped hurriedly and disorderly, the pink liquid pooled underneath it to lay contently in the metal tray on the metal cart.

Plop.

The white walls of the room bare and silent, the darkness in the corners of the room cold and uninviting, the single tinted window of the room sharp and watching; if walls could talk this room's would be mute.

Plop.

In the farthest and darkest corner of the white room, where the bright shining light could not reach, a figure there crouched. Doubled over in fear, eyes full of horror behind thick framed glasses, cheeks tear streaked , and a face as white and plain as the room it resided in.

Plop.

Eyes widened further is disbelieve, horror, and emptiness. Mouth hung agape. Arms wrapped tightly around a thin frame; almost afraid to let go.

Another second passed before the figure rose to its feet. Slowly, yet steadily, it made its way over to the single metal table under the brightly shining light next to the cart with the tray of gleaming objects pointing sadistically. A shaky, quivering, timid hand carefully reached up to viciously grip the top of the pure white sheet stained, marred, tainted by the dark awful pink liquid. Hands covered with the same awful chemical. The sheet slipped off slowly, yet impatient, carefully, yet selfish, slowly, until it lay rumpled at booted feet. Stripped pink shirt thrown carelessly on the table, ripped or cut off stained with the darkest pink. Soft, green, glowing skin harshly exposed to the cold artificial air in the white room on the single metal table next to the cart with the tray with the gleaming objects pointing sadistically.

Oh so shiny, shiny and gleaming, gleaming oh so sadistically, sadistically and innocent were those pointy objects shining, cold metal so unforgiving, never giving another chance, irreversible actions did they cause. Caused not by the objects but by the hand they were poised at such an angle pushed with such strength straight in without thinking without contemplating only acting. Even if now that hand wished it could take it back, make it all better once again, those objects, shiny even when covered by the mistakes of the hand, did not allow actions to be undone, hearts to be mended, lives to be restored. The tray upon the cart with the shiny objects were pushed roughly aside falling to the ground with a loud resounding clank the objects flying; landing carelessly on the floor. A snarl rang out in the cold white artificial room.

Heavy breaths cracked by sobs threatening to fall from a hanging mouth, eyes brimmed with tears, shoulders tense by the knowledge of himself. And with that he threw himself upon the single metal table under the bright shining light without the cart next to it, the lithe figure lay atop the table under the shining bright light. He sobbed; tears stained a soft green chest. Tears mixed with blood, clear with pink, dirt with purity, danced and entwined together upon that soft green chest to form the purest and the dirtiest. A clothed arm was brought up to wipe feverishly at tears with the sleeve of a black trench coat worn out and fading, much like the body underneath.

Long pale fingers stroked a green cheek lovingly, softly. Eyes gazed downwards, a small strained smile tugged at cracked lips.

"Stop it, please wake up," whispered through dry lips with a cracked voice falling on deaf ears, "don't do this to me. You can't, can't leave me."

Dry cracked lifeless lips met soft cool green lips even more lifeless than the last. Arms picked up the lifeless form by the middle holding it close as a pink wet tongue ventured out to pry open the green lips desperately searching for a sign. Hands gripped shoulders, lips met lips, raw emotion felt nothing. The kiss fell on dead cold lips never to be woken. Where there has once been soft smooth green skin was now a deep gash pink over flowing onto the metal table shining brightly by the light overhead onto the clinical white floor of the white room with its clean mute walls.

With one more breath words were uttered, "Zim wait for me."

Cold pale hands that had once gripped the putrid white sheet, white knuckles loosened lightly letting the artificially pure sheet fall from his mistake covered fingers, never knowing he was forgiven, to fall upon the smooth white floor, polished and buffed until worn out in the white metallic cage filled with artificial cold air, the single metal table cold and unforgiving sharp edges cold polished surfaces with the shining bright light scorching with an unearthly glow. The unfeeling room warmed by the only true life lying atop the single metal table with the shining bright light contently upon such a spectacle.

Red stained the table; danced, entwined, mixed with pink. A rich color never to be matched again.

End note : I attempted symbolism in this. You all should go back and check it out. Try to look at colors, objects, sentence structure.

:3

I had a better version of this in my sister's laptop.. maybe I'll get it back. Until then enjoy this.

Le review!


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